Pieces
by bejome
Summary: Collection of short tid bits of affectionate moments between Varric and [F]Hawke. Varric/[F]Hawke shipping. Do not expect anything but fluff.
1. Pieces

He wasn't sure why he was out here.

It was late. He was tired. He should have been back at his room in the Hanged Man drinking himself into a heavy slumber.

But he wasn't.

Instead, Varric stood outside of Hawke Manor, waiting for someone to answer the door. 'This would be more picturesque if it were raining', he thought, and tried not to wish that too heavily on himself.

A few clicks later and a set of eyes was peering at him through a crack in the doorway. Once Bodhan realized who it was, the dwarf finished opening the door to it's full width.

"Good evening, Messer," the manservant greeted with a quizzical eye. "What brings you to the manor this late at night?"

Varric felt like a young man being tacitly berated by the father of a maiden whose room he was trying to sneak into late at night. He squirmed a bit where he stood. Bodhan may have been a servant to the Hawke estate but he still had that look about him that questioned what anyone might want with his master at this late of an hour. Varric was happy to know that those who worked for Hawke were also loyal to her.

"Is Hawke in?" Varric asked, somewhat apologetically.

"She is, Messer." Bodhan opened the door wide and stepped to the side, allowing Varric in. "Serah Hawke is in the study if you wish to speak with her."

"Thank you, Bodhan."

He left the dwarf to tend to the rest of his duties.

Hawke was indeed seated in the study. He could see her slumped in the larger of the two chairs, staring into the fire as though it were the cause of her most recent turmoil. Again, Varric began to debate on the wisdom of having come here.

'Her mother just died', the dwarf told himself guiltily. 'Murdered by a crazed mage, and now you're here to make this all worse.'

Varric started to back away, realizing that the selfish nature of his visit was unforgivable, but as he did so brushed the wall with Bianca's protruding handle and immediately gathered the woman's attention.

"Varric!"

Life returned to her eyes, albeit slowly, as she stood to greet her friend.

Varric now felt despicable for having come to her.

"My friend, what brings you here at such a late hour?"

It took him a few seconds to gather a response toward her warm welcome. He had to admit that it wasn't a very good one.

"I..um, I'm sorry, Hawke, I should come at a better time."

She smiled again, this time with genuine sincerity.

Damn it, how he loved her when she did that. Hawke had the ability to make him feel like every rush of generosity and kindness that she mustered was genuinely only for him. She had that personal touch to everything she did, and whether it was intentional or not, it made Varric's affection for her swell.

"Nonsense," she gripped his shoulder gently and ushered him in. "I always have time for my dearest friend. Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you."

Her eyes turned upon him with a sly questioning. Her face was rosy again. A second ago he wouldn't have believed that she'd been sitting curled up in a chair looking as though her world were over.

"Everything alright, Varric? You never turn down a drink."

This tripped him up even more. Everything in his brain told him to dismiss himself, to leave her to her mourning and get a firm grasp on his personal life. It was no one else's business. Never in his life had he felt the need to seek comfort from another. Varric had always been the person to take care of others, never be taken care of. Yet here, with Hawke, he was met with the utmost sincerity and someone who, despite their own tribulations, was more than willing to lend him a helping hand if he called for it.

"How are you doing, Hawke?" Varric hoped that maybe a quick change of subject might absolve him.

The smile slipped away from her face almost instantly, but the suspicion never left her eyes.

"I'm making due with what I've got," she admitted, slowing down somewhat. "Which I guess isn't much these days, but I try to take joy in it anyway."

"I..I'm sorry again about your mother."

Silence stretched between them for a few moments after that. Hawke's eyes fell to the floor for a while, and nothing but the sound of the fire crackling came between them. Varric stood motionless, his brain screaming to make a break for it, yet he had come to find himself now in a position where he couldn't leave her after seeing how she had looked alone. There was pain there, and he didn't want her to take it on alone.

"Are you all right, Varric?"

The question jarred him out of his train of thought.

"Hm?"

"You don't usually come to call this late at night. Not that I mind," she threw up her hands to excuse herself. "You're always welcome here, it's just unusual. Furthermore, you're not acting like yourself."

There it was again. Her concerned smile. The touch of genuine empathy. The bright blue eyes that swallowed him up like the sea and drowned him in all of her perfections and imperfections. She took him in completely, and he was willing to fall into her forever, if only she'd keep him.

"Bartrand's dead."

It slipped out; at least he thought it had. He hadn't wanted to share it, but there it was.

Hawke's expression changed from one of soft concern to one of shock.

"Maker! …Varric, I'm so sorry."

He tried to shrug it off, but he couldn't. Try as he might be angry at the dwarf for all the things he'd done…a good portion of Varric knew that all of the actions up until now committed by his brother hadn't really been Bartrand. He'd lost his eldest brother, and he wasn't sure what to feel.

"It's…I just needed to tell someone that would understand…"

Hawke crossed the space between them, neither swiftly nor slowly. Varric hadn't noticed until she was standing at his side, a hand on his shoulder, comforting.

"Stay here Varric, I'll be right back."

Maker knew why he listened. He still felt terrible for being here, for putting this on her. Hawke had lost her mother, someone inexplicably closer to her than he had ever been to Bartrand. He had no right to invoke her sympathy when it should have been reserved for herself.

Yet the dwarf stayed, and Hawke never threw him out.

She returned a few moments later with two crystal glasses and a bottle of brandy covered in dust. She set both cups on the side table of the chair he had placated himself in and popped the cork, smiling sheepishly when a cloud of dust formed above it.

"Sorry," she blushed while pouring him a cup. "Been in the cellar a while."

Varric offered her a laugh.

"A long while."

A soft chuckle left Hawke's lips in return. "It's probably been down there since before my grandparent's passed. Glad Gamlen left that at least."

This time they shared a laugh. When Hawke had filled her glass the two of them raised them together.

"To those we've loved and lost," she said with a sad smile.

They each downed their cups in one swallow.

The night stretched on with the two of them finishing off a few more bottles, each regaling the other with tales of their childhood, growing up with people that were no longer with them in the physical world. Each spoke of lost brothers, parents, and friends…and yet the tears never came, as perhaps they should have. Instead, they each laughed in the sharing of memories both fond and bittersweet.

Hours drained away like minutes, and Varric began to realize as he watched Hawke brush away tears of laughter, that this was how the souls of the dead should be remembered: in happy times, with people that they loved. Hawke understood why Varric was distraught over the death of his brother, just as she was still heavy hearted about the death of a brother that she had never truly gotten along with either.

Their bonds were stronger and experiences more similar than those around them. Of all of their companions, they related best to each other out of anyone else.

"What?"

Varric started, realizing that he'd been doing nothing but staring at her for the past few seconds.

Hawke didn't seem upset by this. In fact, she smiled gleefully at him. Her face was flushed from the brandy and her eyes had that slightly glossed look. Varric was certain he looked similar in drunken fashion. He smiled at her questioning gaze, feeling warm and incoherent.

"Nothing. Just admiring."

The woman laughed, her eyes drifting back over to the fire.

"Not that again. Tease me then tell me you belong to Bianca. Honestly Dwarf, you've such a cruel heart."

They both laughed, but Varric said nothing. He rested his head against the back of his chair and took comfort in watching her again. She played with the half empty cup in her hand, gazed into the fire, stared in to the ceiling, and about a million other pointless actions that were delightful and magical to him.

Finally, she set her cup down and stood up.

"Well, there will be no walking home for you." She stated very matter-of-factly. "Let me prepare a guest room for you."

Hawke took less than three steps before her drunkenness overtook her balance causing her to stumble. Varric, in a fleeting rush of stupidity and chivalry, attempted to reach out and catch her, only to forget the sheer difference in height between then. Instead, he ended up falling on top of her. He felt the wind get crushed from her lungs and a painful sigh escape her lips.

"Maker…" she whispered, coughing a little with a laugh.

"Are you alright?" Varric gasped, trying to pull himself up but finding himself too heavy to do so.

They stared at each other for a few moments, eyes connected, and then without warning their lips connected. Fingers whipped through hair and tugged begrudgingly at clothing that would not relent to their most base desires.

Her skin was exotically warm and smooth against his course dwarven flesh. He was stone and she was silk, and their mesh of passion and romance intertwined as perfectly as a bird's song in the summer time.

The smell of juniper that was so devoutly hers invaded his nose, his lungs and his very being, and he would never smell those flowers again without remembering Hawke in her greatest moments of passion and love and everything that was hers that she gave to him.

The fire crackled as he kissed every inch of her exposed flesh. Her own fingers tickled up his spine, her laugh teasing his ears with promises of more pleasure. There was a devious nature behind those pure blue eyes, and he wanted to unlock it and see the rogue that she was.

And she was more than ready to show him.

Had he ever marveled at her strength and prowess in battle, he knew his level of amazement would never cease with her now having seen and felt her in this new realm of existence. Her strength drew him in, held him, and he wanted only more of her. Each of them had broken a sweat long before either was ready to finish.

He cursed her and blessed her for the release she had offered him, and he could see in her eyes that she in turn had needed him as well. Her smile told him more as she reached up and kissed his forehead, his nose, and planted one last flowery kiss on his lips. He laid his head down at the crook of her neck and took in her scent, completely still and content in each other's arms.

Varric couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so at ease.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Varric couldn't help but smile.

"I think I should be thanking you." He paused, waiting for her to question him, but she didn't. Somehow it seemed as though she sensed that he had more on his mind. "I've been wanting to do this for a long time."

She chuckled gently.

"Me too. It was…lovely."

"Agreed."

There wasn't much left to say between either of them. They stayed there for what felt like several hours, or maybe only a few moments before moving up to Hawke's room for the rest of the night.


	2. Love

Maker, was she beautiful. Varric could have stared at her for hours, and considering how far gone she was right now she probably would have let him. Or she'd punch him. He was still learning exactly what type of drunk Hawke was, but so far the research was proving…entertaining.

The first sign was her fingers twisting up bits of her hair, leaving strange makeshift curls framing the delicate curves around her eyes and ears. Varric was tickled pink at the sight of it, and had to bite his tongue to laugh at her schoolgirl giggle that rose with the blush on her cheeks whenever he teased her about the habit. That was also the second sign: her face flushing, bringing a heightened beauty to the two blue jewels that she had for eyes.

Varric cast a furtive glance over toward Anders, who was now snoozing lightly at the edge of the table, about to fall off. He resisted the urge to give the mage a good shove, knowing damn well that Isabella would probably take the opportunity if he didn't. Their pirate friend was currently up at the bar, flirting with another sailor that would no doubt be bedding with her tonight, and wondering what that itch was a week from now.

A hiccup brought him back to his current, semi-conscious company. He smiled as Hawke blinked away some upcoming dizziness.

"What?" she slurred at him, straining to focus.

There is no way she was walking home like this, he thought to himself. That's for sure.

"Oh nothing, beautiful," he stated with a growing smile. "Just admiring."

"Please," she laughed, waving her mug around for a refill.

Hawke couldn't take her liquor very well it seemed, but she sure as shit didn't know when to stop either. Varric made a quick mental note of whose tab this was all going on tonight before nodding his head for a refill of his own.

"You, master dwarf," said the lady with a finger pointed suddenly and intensely at his face, "are a tease."

Varric stopped himself mid swig and wide-eyed. This was certainly unexpected.

"What?" He had to laugh despite the awkwardness of the situation. "What ever could you mean, m'lady?"

"You! With your flirting and this 'm'lady' nonsense! But when a girl's interested you tell her you can't return it because your crossbow is the jealous type? You know how ridiculous that sounds? And I'm pretty drunk right now, Varric."

A smile was creeping up on Varric's face again. Even when intoxicated this vixen made decent points. She was a sharp one. He'd have to watch out for that.

"My apologies, Hawke, I didn't realize I'd broken your heart too."

The flush in her face increased. Varric was a bit surprised at this, but also rather amused. So it turned out after all that he wasn't the only one hiding these feelings…it just so happened he was better at concealing them when it came to almost four pints of heavy ale.

"Too?" she raised an eyebrow. "How many women do you do this to, Varric?"

The dwarf laughed. So hard, in fact, that he had to wipe tears from his eyes after recovering.

"It seems just one, ma'am. But I never had any intention of hurting you Hawke. I would never dream of doing that to someone I love."

Hawke fell silent after that, one of her eyebrows raised in careful consideration. For a moment Varric thought he might have been played, and then cursed himself after realizing what he'd said. As it turns out, enough ale can make a dwarf's tongue slip as much as any human's.

The curious gaze turned into a smile and she giggled the awkwardness off. Varric joined in on it, praying that Andraste would somehow wipe Hawke's memory of that last exchange. Even if what he said had been true.

The dwarf cast another glance up toward the bar. Isabella was indeed gone. He shook his head and turned to glance over at Anders, wondering what would become of the man tonight as Varric walked Hawke home. Naturally he could stay here, but neither the owner nor Anders would be very happy of the circumstances come morning.

After downing a portion of his drink, Varric decided that Anders would survive.

Hawke hiccupped again. How could someone so skilled and dangerous be equally vulnerable and so very heart wrenchingly adorable as well?

Or perhaps Varric just had strange tastes.

They caught each other's eye, at which point Varric realized he'd been staring again. Almost every little wisp of her hair was now curled in some awkward direction, and her face held the rosiest hue beneath her bright blue eyes. She was the picture of drunken perfection.

He couldn't let her walk home like this. Even in her condition, Varric wouldn't be able to support her given his stature and her current level of intoxication.

Tonight would be a true test of his manner as a gentleman.

"I think you've had enough, beautiful." He got to his feet and felt a slight rush to his head. Now he knew there was no way he would be able to walk her home and walk himself back too. The room swayed all of a sudden, and the dwarf had to steady himself against the table.

Maker, if he was this bad he didn't want to know how Hawke would feel in the morning.

"What, you're kicking me out?"

The dwarf's playful nature rebounded almost instantly despite his unexpected battle with gravity.

"What?" he gasped jokingly. "Throwing to the curb a beautiful lady such as yourself? Not at all. You'll be taking my bed tonight." He bowed in a silly manner, making her snort.

"And where will you sleep?"

He shrugged. "I'll figure that part out."

Her joyous expression fell again into genuine concern, and Andraste be damned, it made him love her a little more that she worried about even the simplest things for him.

"I can't have that Varric. I'll walk home. It's not far."

She started to stand only to promptly be taken over by gravity and the weight of her light armor that she'd worn that night. Varric smiled.

"No m'lady, I really can't allow that. What would I do with myself if something happened to you?" He lifted her hand and kissed the knuckles gently. A wave of heat grew in his face, and if he knew Hawke at all he'd have guessed that hers had done the same.

"Oh come now Varric, we both know your life would be quieter for it."

The statement stopped the dwarf for a moment, unsure if she was serious or not. He decided not to think too much on it and instead continue on with his not-quite ruse.

"Quieter? Yes. Enjoyable? Hardly." He smiled up at her and watched as her crooked grin melted away into something different. "Now come m'lady. I'll not have you sneaking out to walk home on my watch."

She rose deftly to her feet this time, again making Varric question which out of the two of them was really drunk right now.

"What about Anders?"

"Bah, he'll be fine."

-

"Honestly Varric, are you sure?"

Hawke stood awkwardly at the foot of his bed, her foot twisting meticulously into the floorboards as she tried to look every way but at the bed itself. If Varric wasn't so concerned she'd bolt out the door at any minute he would have laughed at her for this behavior. Here was a woman who had fought dragons, Qunari, assassins, blood mages, and Maker knew what else, and yet the thought of sleeping in her best friend's bed was a form of terror that rendered her as timid as a chantry sister in a whorehouse.

"Of course," he told her. "For the fiftieth time," he added as an aside to himself.

"It just seems like an awful lot of trouble to go through for me."

"Hawke, I've fought side by side with you in more skirmishes than I can think back on, and allowing you to stay the night so you're not mugged in the streets, or worse, is you asking too much of me?" He sidled up to her and handed over a night shirt. "Remind me to discuss boundaries amongst friends with you sometime." He winked, which seemed to set her back to a normal level of comfort.

"Very well, but I'd feel better taking the floor."

"Nonsense, you're a lady."

"And you're a gentleman all of a sudden?"

The sarcasm brought a smile to his face. There was the lady he loved!

"When I choose to be."

"Very well. Don't look while I change!"

Varric smiled again and maintained a gentleman's distance with his eyes turned away while Hawke removed her light armor, her tunic and finally her trousers. As she slipped on the borrowed nightshirt he heard her mutter "oh dear."

"Something wrong?"

"Um…well…"

He turned and might have laughed if he wasn't completely taken away with the sight before him. Marian Hawke stood before him as a paragon of beauty and womanhood. Her lean frame curled with gentle muscle development along her arms and incredibly exposed thighs. Her skin was a pale, milky white, which reflected the moonlight that danced casually over her exposed flesh, while the rest absorbed the candlelight. She was a goddess.

Varric had to check himself to make sure he hadn't left his mouth agape.

"It's a bit short," she muttered uncomfortably, her hands fidgeting with the edges of the shirt.

"You-uh- it…looks fine," he stated, trying to pull his eyes away and finding it strangely difficult. Hawke didn't seem to catch the slip as she frowned at her indecent exposure. "No one here but me."

The frown that placated itself on the young woman's face deepened, showing that this was not in the least bit a comforting thought.

"I should just go home."

Sighing, Varric stepped forward and took one of her hands in his own, folding the other on top of it. He looked up at her eyes which hesitantly met his own, and gave the sincerest smile he had ever given in his life.

"Please, m'lady. It would do this dwarf a great service for you to stay somewhere he knows you are safe. I'm in no more of a condition to walk you home than you are to walk yourself. Please, do my heart this kind service of making me not have to stay awake worrying about you."

Their eyes lingered on each other for a moment before Hawke finally pulled her gaze away in acquiescence.

"Very well."

Varric kissed her hand.

"Thank you m'lady. Now, if you don't mind, it's my turn to change so if you would be so kind."

Hawke obliged him by turning and sitting down on the bed. The dwarf was done within seconds and had started to set himself up a makeshift cot on the floor. It didn't take long. He slipped his shoes off, and turned to wish Hawke a good night only to find that she had already fallen asleep. The creature was so tired she'd not even gotten to pull the covers up yet.

The dwarf chuckled to himself.

"Well now," he whispered in amusement. "Can't allow you to go and catch a cold while you're in my care, can I?"

Gently the dwarf crawled up on to the bed beside her. With the greatest attention afforded to the dwarven race, Varric laid the blankets down over her slumbering frame. He smiled as her gentle snores buzzed through her nose. It was strange to see her like this, but he was happy for the experience.

As Hawke drifted in her drunken slumber Varric allowed his imagination to creep up on him. He wondered what it would be like to wake up next to this godlike creature in all her strength and beauty and sincerity. He remembered the Dalish Keeper saying how Hawke had honesty in her face, a rare trait in a human. He considered that and more, of all the virtues this woman possessed; what man would possibly be deserving of her?

He thought on the two men pining for her eye, Anders and Fenris, and how contemptible they were. Anders and his self absorbed quest to free all mages in order to justify his past, and Fenris who was even somehow more self-absorbed and unpredictable. Varric liked each of them well enough as drinking partners, but he didn't know if he'd trust either of them with the care of his dearest friend.

But if not them, then who?

Hawke herself had called him out on his feelings tonight, and whether she remembered or not would not settle his unease come morning. Was she beginning to see through his cover? Were his feelings for her becoming more evident?

Varric sighed sadly and brushed a curled lock of hair out of the lady's face. It was true and he was finally almost ready to admit it.

He was in love.

He never thought he could fall for a human, but he also didn't think he'd ever meet a human like her. He could easily and happily take her and make her his own, show her the wonders of the world and give her everything within his power to make her smile and keep her safe, but she wouldn't have him. No woman like her would want a dwarf.

His joy was beginning to escape along with his drunkenness, and Varric knew that if he did not take this chance he would never forgive himself. He leaned forward and could smell the juniper soaps she used. Earth. Those aromas did her justice. He kissed her cheek, and only her cheek (he was still a gentleman after all) and took in every detail: the feel and smell of her skin, the cool temperature of it, everything. It was a tiny moment of bliss that exploded in his mind with the torturous reminder that he would never have something like this again.

And damn him, he had to take it while she was asleep.

He stayed there for a few more moments, dreaming and wishing and growing in his sorrows and certainties of what would never be. This was love he realized, and remembered, with a hint of sadness and irony. This was how he would feel forever, and he wouldn't change it for anything. It was enough to be at her side and keep her safe. Whatever came after that would be dealt with over time.

She shivered before falling still again.

Varric didn't move. He stayed at her side, watching her sleep and thinking about life, and what it would be like if she would have him. He knew it was just a fantasy…but he could see just for a brief moment what a quiet existence would entail and it made him feel…complete. He could see children and a small home somewhere in Kirkwall, surrounded by family and friends, and maybe even a dog! At that moment, he didn't really care.

With a sorrowful sigh, Varric gently pushed another lock of hair out of her face. The smell of juniper was beginning to overwhelm him, make his chest ache with want, and he was hating himself more for lingering here at her side for longer than he should have. He shouldn't have even allowed himself to stay this long, entertaining thoughts that would never be.

No, the love that he wanted would never be. Everything that Hawke had said was undoubtedly the result of a confused drunken stupor and in the morning they would wake up to being only friends again. He leaned over to whisper words of apology to her un-listening ears, but sleep overtook the dwarf long before logic could.

-

The morning sun was a welcome sight, until Varric remembered the events from the night before. He shot up from where he lay and instantly regretted the motion. Nausea hit him like a caravan on the highway, and he instantly doubled back over to wait for the room to stop spinning. After a few seconds of groaning and cursing all of the Maker's creations he realized that he was alone in his bed. Sadness sparked somewhere within him, but fear soon followed and quickly enveloped it. If Hawke had awoke to find him lying next to her and assumed the worst…

"Shit."

The dwarf forced himself out of bed and started to pull on his clothes from the night before. He needed to apologize, to explain himself…until he noticed a jerkin that was not his. A pair of shoes, a sword…either Hawke was still here, or she had left in such a rush that she hadn't even changed out of his nightshirt. He was hoping the former was the case.

The answer to his question came a few moments later as he overheard a nasty retching sound coming from the water closet. He rushed over and knocked, unsure if he should wait or just open the door. When no answer came he gently pushed it forward. If she was lying anywhere on the floor the last thing she needed was being knocked out by him bursting in like a fool.

Varric found Hawke with her head half inside of a bucket as he peered inside.

"Hawke?" he whispered gently. If experience had taught him anything, he knew her head must have been pounding almost twice as bad as his own. "Are you alright?"

She chuckled, then coughed, and then groaned.

"I've had better mornings," she assured him with a tired smile. "Need me to move over?"

He laughed. "I might in a moment, hold on."

Varric grabbed a towel from the wash-basin and wet it with warm water, then filled a mug with the same and brought it back to her, sitting cross legged at her side. He allowed her to finish emptying the contents of her stomach and liver again before handing her the towel so she could wipe her face and a mug of water to wash out the taste in her mouth.

"I'm sorry Varric, I'm such a problem for you."

He offered her a gentle, nervous grin. "Nonsense, m'lady. Your safety takes precedence over convenience."

She groaned, then laughed. "You're too kind."

Silence grew between them. For a while, Varric debated whether or not it was worth bringing up at all, but he knew once her sickness passed she would remember waking up next to the dwarf and wonder what had transpired.

He decided that if he was to retain her friendship he would have to be honest up front.

"Hawke I want to apologize for last night."

For a moment, she didn't say anything. Her eyes were transfixed on the bucket. It took her some time and some effort to pull away and lean against the wall to look him in the eye.

"I'm not worried, Varric."

His heart skipped a beat.

"What?"

Her smile, more beautiful to him now than it had been before, glowed beneath her exhaustion glazed eyes.

"I'm certain nothing happened, and I'm even more certain that you had no ill intentions." The smile returned between moments of hazy, blank staring.

"So, you're not angry?"

"I trust you, Varric. I thought you knew that much by now. Besides…if something had happened I couldn't say I'd be sorry for it."

She was still drunk. It was the only thing he could consider as he watched her swish the water around in her mouth. His eyes fell to the floor in consideration, but she interrupted him in his thoughts.

"My apologies, friend. Perhaps that's too forward of me."

Her eyes fell and she placed the cup at her side, the cloth on top of it. Varric tilted his head listlessly, watching her, observing her. A small piece of courage ballooned up inside of him, and in addition to the alcohol, Verric Tethras did the most ignorant, dangerous thing he felt that he would ever do.

He crawled forward, possessed by whim and fancy and the grandest of all crazed desires and passions, and kissed her.

Hawke froze at first, stunned. The dwarf's heart skipped another beat in fear…and then she returned the gesture, bringing up her hands to entwine her thin fingers in his hair and pulling his face deeper into hers. His hands flew up to cup her face, feeling the smoothness of her skin and the hollows of her cheeks, brushing against the still curled ebony black locks that framed her features. The smell of juniper was still there, and the yearning grew in his chest and bubbled up in his throat.

Something wrapped around his midsection and drew him even closer. Her legs. Now desire was pulling at different parts of him, and the dwarf wasn't sure how much longer he could maintain this level of control and keep his dignity, and Hawke's intact.

"We should stop," he finally whispered, his voice hoarse and weighed down with his own disappointment. He couldn't do this, not with them both in this state. "As much as I hate to. I don't wish to steal your honor like this."

Hawke pulled away. There was an expression in her face and a burning in her eyes that Varric did not recognize. Was she disappointed as well?

The woman sighed and collapsed against the wall again.

"Very well, sir dwarf," she stated, her voice now cold. "I suppose you know best."

He held up his hands, pleading his defense to the woman, but she raised her own hand to stop him.

"Don't misunderstand me, Varric. I'm not angry with you. I understand your reasoning and will not argue it. I just..." she trailed off and her eyes suddenly became unfocused.

"Hawke?"

Her head was in the bucket before he could even crack a smile at the circumstances. Varric chuckled and grabbed the cloth and mug, rewetting, refilling and returning to her side. He set them each down and rubbed her back as she expelled more toxins from her body.

"Take your time, m'lady," he whispered gently. "I've got all day."

Strange, he thought, that of all places, there wasn't one he'd rather be than right here.


End file.
